


When Louis said three little words

by harry_tpwk



Series: Harry&Louis [8]
Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Confession, Crying, Fluff, Gay, Gay Love, Hangover, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, I Love You, Long Hair Harry, Love, M/M, Nail Polish, Pain, Rings, Sadness, drunk, flower crown, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26911009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harry_tpwk/pseuds/harry_tpwk
Summary: Harry finds comfort in Des. Louis admits his feelings.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Harry&Louis [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890499
Comments: 19
Kudos: 29





	When Louis said three little words

**Author's Note:**

> tw // mentions of homophobia and homophobic slurs.

When Louis said three little words, neither of them was expecting it, not even Louis himself. He’d been left alone on a bridge, crying, lonely, lost and with the realisation that he had gone and fallen in love with a certain curly haired lanky boy with the biggest heart he’d ever seen. He had stood there until he couldn’t see Harry anymore, as he disappeared into a lane, tears running down his face as he kept going over it in his head over and over again. He couldn’t get the image of Harry’s broken face out of his head. It hurt so much to know he was hurting.

It wasn’t that Louis hadn’t been in love before. He had definitely loved someone before, and while it hadn’t lasted, he had felt those feelings. He also loved his family dearly and while it was a different kind of love, he would still hurt when they were hurting, but never so intensely. The pain was tough to describe. His chest was throbbing like someone had punched him hard, and his breath was rough.

It took a while but Louis eventually made his way back home, standing in the doorway of his building, remembering how perfectly the day had begun. Harry, standing here, waiting for him to open the door. Harry, wearing his beautiful lilac flower crown in his luscious curls. Harry, gifting him the candle and smiling at him so wide Louis could go blind with how stunning it was. Harry, towering over him and kissing him like he needed him more than air.

Louis was almost in tears again. He wasn’t the type of guy who cried very easily, especially not in public, so he hurried inside and closed the door, prepared to break down completely. But he didn’t. Sure, what those guys had said was disgusting and wrong, but their words didn’t hurt him. He knew they should’ve, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. What had really knocked him sideways was Harry’s reaction to it. It wasn’t like his reaction was inappropriate in any sense, because it wasn’t. It made sense. Harry was so open and free and himself without any apologies about it, that it was jarring for Louis when he broke down.

Louis was angry. He was so angry. He hated that anyone had made Harry feel that way. He hated that this probably had happened before, but Harry had moved past it. He hated that people like that existed. He hated that he couldn’t do anything about it. He hated that he hadn’t even got the chance to comfort Harry. He hated that he couldn’t even blame Harry for pushing him away. And he really, really hated that Harry wasn’t here.

*****

It was a long walk but Harry kept going. He didn’t stop, he didn’t look up. He just held his bag to himself and walked, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him. He knew the way, and even though it would be easier to take the Tube, he walked. He walked to try and clear his mind. He walked to try and find some sense of normal. He walked to try and forget before he got there and had to explain to his dad what had happened. He wasn’t ready to talk about it, but he walked.

He felt like a kid again. He’d never been bullied, per se, being the charming and happy kid in class who everyone knew and hung out with, but there had been times when he’d not had the best time. Being called a nerd, or constantly being asked out by girls in his year or even older girls, which always led to some of the other boys calling him names. There had been a couple of scuffles, but he’d never been physically hurt apart from getting his hair pulled. His mum had taught him to never use his fists.

He felt like the boy in college who had no idea what he wanted to do, moving away from home for the first time because his hometown had no colleges, only secondary schools. He felt exactly like the boy with the confused sexuality and even gender identity. He felt like the boy who liked dresses just as much as suits, the boy who enjoyed making flower crowns and cooking, the boy who loved clothes, fashion and jewellery, the boy who was always staring at the fancy Italian shoes at the store in the mall.

He thought he was past this, that he knew who he was now. He was a man, of course, but he was his own man. He thought he was done caring about what people thought about him. Manchester University had been so good to him. He’d started wearing whatever the hell he wanted right from nail polish to flower crowns to neon shirts and floral prints and nobody cared. Sure, he’d received some stares in the beginning, but the attention had been mostly positive. He had fallen into a very big hole of partying, alcohol and sex but that had been everyone’s experience, and he had become himself out of it. So, why was it that only a few words had him questioning every single personal development he had ever gone through?

*****

Des was cooking chicken pot pie for Harry, checking the time. He’d just put them into the oven, and wasn’t expecting Harry for another hour, so he was surprised when he heard the intercom go off. He buzzed him up and took off his apron, getting some water before opening the door.

Harry was trying to be strong and keep his face neutral, but as soon as he saw his dad, he felt his will crumble. He couldn’t pretend that everything was okay, because it wasn’t. Everything was shit right now, and he was just a boy who needed his father.

Des was alarmed when he saw the look on his son’s face, pulling him inside and giving him a big bear hug. He knew Harry was a sweet, emotional boy, but he was generally very happy and chirpy. He had always encouraged both his children to be open with their emotions, but it was rare to see Harry crying like this.

Harry didn’t let go for a good five minutes. His tears had started to fall again, but this time he didn’t bother to care. His dad smelled so nice, like his favourite cologne, the only cologne he’d worn since before Harry was even born, and his hug felt so strong and loving, just like he remembered. His family was full of huggers, so they hugged all the time, but this hug was warm and special and so soothing, Harry felt all of his walls coming down.

“Harry, is everything okay?” Des finally spoke, rubbing his back gently. He could feel his shirt getting wet with his tears. As a parent, he was concerned, and pained. His children’s pain was his, too. “Come on, talk to me.”

Harry pulled back and wiped his face, shakily sitting down in a chair. His flower crown was now crumpled, so he took it off as gently as he could bear and put it on the table, tying his hair in a bun. He could feel his dad’s concerned gaze on him, reaching for the glass of water before he spoke. “I’m okay. Nothing’s happened to me.”

Des sat down and sighed softly. “Well, something’s happened.”

“I don’t know how to tell you,” Harry admitted. “But I’m just going to say it. I started seeing someone.”

Des wanted to jump in immediately, assuming that whoever this person was had hurt his son. His sweet, charming son who would never even hurt a fly, but he stopped himself.

“He’s lovely,” Harry said, sighing deeply.

“So it’s a he?” Des asked, a small smile on his face. He had known Harry might not be straight for a very long time, but you can’t force someone to tell you until they’re comfortable. Coming out was every individual’s choice, and Des hadn’t been surprised when Harry had finally told him two years go. Neither had Anne or Gemma.

Harry gave a nod, scratching the back of his neck like he suddenly felt awkward. “He’s older, he works here in London so I came down to see him. I’ll give you the details later. Anyway, so we went out and I even did something romantic, but then-“ He stopped himself and inhaled sharply to hold back the sob that was about to erupt. “There was a car of young guys driving past, who saw us kissing. They said,” he swallowed hard, “they said some things.”

Des understood immediately. Harry was charming and mostly everyone had always liked him, but there had definitely been some negative attention before. “You know that they aren’t true, right?” He squeezed Harry’s hand gently.

“I know,” Harry mumbled, “but they still hurt. They called me a girl, then a fag, which doesn’t even make sense,” he said bitterly, “and then they called Louis a twink and said that we should just jump into the Thames cause gay people are disgusting.” Harry felt a little calmer after saying it out loud. It didn’t sound so bad coming from his own mouth, it didn’t feel like grating abuse.

“Harry, your mother and I have always raised you and Gemma to believe that everyone is equal. I love how confident you are in your own skin and that you wear what you want and do what you want. You can love who you want, and if anyone has a problem with that, they can really take it up with me. People are just narrow minded.”

Harry nodded, tucking a curl behind his ear with his free hand. “I know homophobia is real, Dad. I just never had to deal with it so head on before and it makes me feel horrible. Like, I’m a person, just like them, and I can love whoever I want.”

“Good. Come on I’ll make us some tea. We can talk about everything.” Des started the kettle, but Harry changed the topic to university. He just wanted to feel normal again, and he was sick of feeling like he was weird. He loved himself and accepted himself. He just had to remind himself of that every now and again.

They ate their food and spent time watching a football match on tv. Harry had never really been very good at playing but football was so big when he was growing up that he had fallen into it and started playing. He wasn’t too bad but he liked it and so he played. Des knew he needed some sense of normalcy to feel like himself again, and he was happy to do anything with him. They saw each other around once every few months, and although they did talk on the phone often, his heart only felt full when he had Harry sitting there on the sofa watching footie with him.

When Harry retired to bed that night in the guest room he always stayed in, Des knocked on the door and went in. He was feeling protective of his son today. Could you blame him? He’d been through a lot.

“You haven’t tucked me in since I was eleven,” Harry smiled fondly as he sat down on the bed.

“I remember. You were growing up, starting secondary school. I didn’t want to smother you. Parents can be very embarrassing at that age.”

Harry chuckled softly. He did remember being mortified by the silliest things back then. It was the first time he’d actually laughed since this afternoon. “Mum tucked me in till I left home, Dad. Sorry to inform you.”

Des guffawed, patting Harry’s shoulder. “Ah I’m sure she loved doing that. She did it to Gemma, too, I’m sure.”

“Oh mum would do it today if Gem allowed,” Harry shrugged. He loved his family through the good times and the bad. They were still close and his parents were friends even though there had been a divorce. And Anne was happy now with Robin.

Des hugged and kissed him good night before leaving, and Harry felt almost calm as he slowly began to drift off. He was slightly confused when he woke up a few minutes later, staring up at the ceiling, but it hit him soon. The sadness he was feeling was coming from his own actions, and not from some strangers’ words.

He’d pushed Louis away. He’d left without much of an explanation. He’d refused Louis’s comfort. God, what kind of a shit person was he? He had to do something about it. He had to apologise, he had to. He grabbed his phone and called him immediately, feeling horrible, but Louis didn’t answer. He took in a deep breath, wondering if Louis was mad at him. He would have a right to be.

He sent Louis a text, hoping he would reply, but he didn’t. Harry pulled out his earphones and played some music, falling asleep while Tango In The Night played.

*****

Harry woke up late the next morning, his head throbbing and his earphones still in, He yanked them out and sat up. He stomped off to the bathroom and took a good half an hour to feel like himself again, remembering everything that had happened.

He had to go see Louis.

He ate breakfast with his dad, checking his phone multiple times. Louis hadn’t even opened his text. Harry was starting to worry. He was going to go over there if he didn’t hear from him in the next hour, and that was that.

Des kissed his cheek goodbye and told Harry to take care of himself. He could tell the boy had a lot on his mind, but he didn’t want to snoop and ask exactly what had happened. He knew it had something to do with that Louis. All he could do was hope that he was good to his son.

When Harry got to Louis’s, he wasn’t expecting what he found. Louis buzzed him in after calling him three times on the intercom, and he took a few minutes to answer the door. His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled of alcohol and smoke.

“Louis? Are you okay?” Harry asked softly, standing in his doorway with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking unsure.

Louis squinted up at him. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine, I’ve been calling you since last night! I was so worried.”

“I haven’t seen my phone.” Louis groaned and sipped black coffee from a mug, rubbing his temple. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I was feeling like shite, so I went out. Got drunk, and I still feel like shite.”

Harry reached out and held the hand that wasn’t occupied with the coffee mug. “I was worried about you,” he repeated, his voice soft.

“I was worried about you, too,” Louis said, looking up into Harry’s green eyes. He all but forgot about his hangover. Pulsing headache? Gone. Racing heart? Check. His mouth suddenly felt dry.

Harry frowned. “Louis are you feeling okay?”

Louis only gave a nod. He felt like a teenager having a crush on someone in school. His face was burning. He was so nervous. He felt self-conscious and suddenly afraid of rejection. But it was Harry, sweet and lovely Harry.

“Louis? Do you need to sit down?”

“No, no. I uh, are you okay?” Louis needed a minute to prepare himself.

“I wasn’t,” he admitted softly. “And I shouldn’t have just left, but I felt so numb. I went to Dad’s and stayed with him. He really helped me come to terms with everything. I’m so sorry, Lou, I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I should’ve accepted your comfort.”

Louis blinked a few times in confusion. “Harry, I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you looking at me like you want to say something but you can’t?”

Louis swallowed hard, looking into his eyes again. “Because I want to say something. I realised something. And I know it might be too soon or whatever but I know what I feel.”

Harry was even more lost now. “You can tell me anything Lou.” He reached up and cupped the side of his face. His hand was so big that he could cup Louis’s cheek, jaw and half of his neck. He could feel the slight stubble but his skin was soft.

Louis felt like he could burst into flames with that one touch. His entire body was singing. He sucked in a rough breath, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Harry, I love you.”


End file.
